Monday, May 04, 2015

Sermon from Sunday, May 3, 2015

Scripture:  Acts 8:26-40 and John 15:1-8

What’s it like to not fit in?  To know that because of who or what you are, what you’ve done or has been done to you, or simply what’s happened, you don’t belong?  And never will?

And then to have someone reach out to you, and let you know you do?  That you really do belong, and there’s a place for you equal to everyone else, just as you are?

The eunuch from Ethiopia knew he didn’t belong.  He was a God-fearer – a worshiper of Yahweh, connected somehow to the community of Jewish Law and observance that had existed in Ethiopia since the time of Solomon, and that over the years stayed in touch with the home community in Israel.  But he was a eunuch – castrated at some point in his life to make him “safe” to work as a court official in close company with the queen, the princesses and the king’s concubines. 

And the Law of Moses states clearly in Deuteronomy 23:1 that, “No one whose testicles are crushed or whose penis is cut off shall be admitted to the assembly of the Lord.”  Everyone knew the Law – that because of his “abnormal” and incomplete sexual identity, when he went to the Temple in Jerusalem to worship God he could go only so far into it.  At home he could not be a full member of the assembly.  The Law of Moses couldn’t be more clear and final.
 
Well, maybe not final.  There was that wonderful promise in Isaiah 56 of the time to come, when the kingdom of God would appear on Earth, and God says, 

          To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,
          who choose the things that please me
          and hold fast my covenant,
          I will give, in my house and within my walls,
          a monument and a name better than sons and daughters;
          I will give them an everlasting name
          that shall not be cut off.

Aside from the prophet's wonderful play on words, it was a glorious vision of a day when those like the eunuchs who were excluded now would be welcomed in and not just let in the back door and quietly tolerated, but joyfully received, honoured and celebrated.

That was only a vision, though.  It wasn’t real life anywhere in the world that he knew. 

Until he met Philip, and in spiritual dialogue with Philip learned that in Jesus the promises of God are fulfilled – that in the community of Jesus, his followers learn to live them out and make the vision their reality.

That conversation in the wilderness, apart from the Temple of Jerusalem and the court of Ethiopia, free of the normal structures and expectations of the day changed the eunuch’s life.  We read that he went home rejoicing, and we can imagine what he had to tell the other God-fearing eunuchs he knew – that there is a community of faith, the community of Jesus, in which the promises of God come true and they even in their undeniable differentness can belong , alongside and equal to everyone else.

The conversation in the wilderness also changed Philip.  I wonder if he was excited by it?  How can you not be excited by the experience of being led by a Spirit greater than your own into helping to heal and change the life of a stranger?  To be able to share with someone else what has changed your life, and have them receive it, and grow because of it, and thank you for it?  And because of the encounter, because of your own openness to the other person’s questions and longing, and connecting what you know with what they know of life and truth, coming t0 discover something new yourself – a bigger understanding of God and of Jesus and of the kingdom of God than you really knew before, when you were just on your own and in your own familiar circle?

At which point, I wonder, did Philip say to himself, “How on earth am I going to tell the people – the other church members back home, what I have just done and what I have just learned about the meaning of Jesus and the kingdom of God in our time?”  (And I wonder if maybe that question helped him be at least a little more open to the Spirit’s idea of a bit more of a missionary journey before reconnecting with his fellow-apostles?)

We know, of course, that the community as a whole came to affirm the position he took, and the story of his theology-changing and church-reshaping encounter with the eunuch came to be part of the story of what it means to follow the risen Jesus.

But it wasn’t easy.  They did struggle with that.  The Book of Acts, the Gospels and the letters to the early churches show how they struggled to grow into the fullness of Christ and the kingdom.  Step by step it was not easy to let go of traditional practices and age-old interpretations and expectations, to embrace and grow into the way of Jesus.

We still struggle today.  Not just us; it’s a universal and on-going challenge for the church.

Several times over the past few years a few different gay people have asked me whether our church is accepting of gays and lesbians and people of other sexual orientations and identities.  I’ve told them on the one hand, yes – that I know this congregation is open and accepting, that in their own lives and minds and experience they’ve come to terms with varieties of sexual orientation and would welcome anyone – but also (knowing this is part of what they are asking) that, no – we have not yet really explored the issue, and not made a choice whether to be an intentionally affirming congregation.  The answer I get – not so much spoken, as acted out, is “Thank you, that’s really good.  But it’s not enough.”  It’s not enough to help them overcome the still-strong feeling of not belonging.

To turn the Ethiopian eunuch’s question around to us, I wonder what prevents us from taking that step?  What prevents me from helping you to take it?

The reason to do it is not just for the benefit of others who would love to know they fully belong, and are honoured by God and celebrated by others for who they are.  That should be reason enough, but there’s also personal benefit involved.  It has to do with our growth as well – in our own faith, and our own understanding and love of the God and of Jesus and of the kingdom of God.

Almost 35 years ago I was in Boston visiting a friend who is gay, and while there worshipped with him at the Metropolitan church – one of the first gay-positive churches in North America.  At that time maybe 80-90% of the congregation was gay and lesbian, and the worship was wonderful – positive, joyful, affirming, challenging about love and lifestyle and relationship, and overall very inviting and encouraging.  “Those people” because of their struggle to be recognized and embraced, knew something about God and the good news of God’s grace that I had yet to learn, and I’m glad I was there that day.

A few years ago I presided at a home wedding of two gay men – my first and so far my only same–sex marriage.  I was there with the blessing and support of Session, and as I watched those two men share their vows just two or three feet in front of me, I was deeply touched by their witness to the deep and real meaning of marriage.  These were not a man and woman for whom marriage was the logical next step after love and courtship.  These were two men for whom marriage was a hard choice, and a deeply intentional commitment and a courageous statement of who they are individually and what they want to be together.

When we honestly and humbly open ourselves and our faith to the questions, the longings and the needs of those who don’t belong and don’t fit in, it’s rare that we don’t grow ourselves.  In the encounter – as long as we are honestly and humbly open – listening to the other as well as speaking, and listening together with them for the greater truth and wisdom of God beyond us all, we ourselves are able to change and to grow in our own understanding and love of God and God’s kingdom.

And of course sexuality is not the only issue.  There are all kinds of things that make people feel – make people know, they don’t fit in and don’t belong – don’t fit into church, maybe never, maybe not any more -- don’t fit into their families – don’t belong in their community – don’t really have a place, a place equal to others, in our society.

Are there ways in which the Spirit of God and of Christ are leading us towards them – as a church or in our own lives?

Do we find ourselves sometimes in places beyond the familiar and comfortable?

Meeting people different than ourselves?

Being called maybe to open ourselves to their questions and longings?

To discover with them something more than what we have known so far about Jesus and the kingdom of God in our time?

What prevents us?

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